


It's Been Sixteen Years

by Jeneral2885



Category: JAG
Genre: 2018, American Politics, F/M, Harm, JAG - Freeform, Skates, Tryst Cafe, Washington DC
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-08
Updated: 2018-10-10
Packaged: 2019-07-28 01:08:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,130
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16231052
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jeneral2885/pseuds/Jeneral2885
Summary: It's been sixteen years and Skates encounters Harm in Washington DC. The two talk discuss about mutual colleagues, friends, their life and then....





	1. Chapter 1

_Author’s note: This is set this year, more than sixteen years since the character Skates left the TV series JAG. It mentions today’s US politics though no political figures are mentioned.  Yes, I use some TV Facts from NCIS and NCIS: Los Angles though I detest the latter._

**Tryst Café**

**Adams Morgan, Washington DC**

**Autumn 2018**

 If Harmon Rabb Junior had a gift voucher, he wouldn’t have spent so much time lining up in the queue and wouldn’t have met up with the old friend. As he turned to find a seat in the crowded outlet, he heard, “you don’t Whataspp, you don’t skype, you sent your emails and postal mail to the wrong Carrier Air Group and aircraft carrier more than three times, and now here you are.”

 “Who..ah...Skates?!” Harm gasp, nearly spilling his cup of freshly-brewed Soy Latte on the floor.

 “Yes, well, people don’t really call me that anymore; it’s just plain Elizabeth, Liz or Beth,” Elizabeth Hawkes, better known Skates, laughed as she clicked her cup of regular coffee against his. “Harm, it’s been like what? Sixteen years?” She then noticed a couple of patrons staring them and they wordlessly moved and found a table at the back.

 “Yeah, I guess many apologies are first in order,” Harm started, still dazed by not just his former Radar Intercept Officer (RIO) and one-time client’s appearance, but by her looks. Skates was still looking youthful as every despite the more than a decade since they last met. Her auburn hair was no longer bundled up in the US Navy regulations but a little shorter, with only two hairpins keeping them in shape. She was in a light brown coat which was now hanging over her chair, in a blue jumper over a light-blue long sleeved dress with nylon hosiery.

 “You were always the technological dinosaur,” she laughed again. “So, still stuck here? I last recalled you were posted across the pond.”

 “Uh yeah, I was the Force Judge Advocate at US Naval Forces for a while, then they posted me to EUCOM then AFRICOM then after a few moves, I just returned here at the end of 2016 and started my own legal consultancy, focusing on naturally maritime law. Are you still flying now?”

 “Me? Hell no, I said I’m plain ol’ Elizabeth now, but I guess you can still call me Skates,” she replied. “I reserved my rank once I reached Commander…”

 “You made Commander? Congrats.”

 “Well thank you, sir. Yeah, I made it, they gave me command of a squadron, VFA-160 Stokers. But personal reasons and the fact that I don’t really like flying the Super Hornet made me reserve my rank after a while, then I officially resigned my commission. I’m still connected to defense; I occasionally teach on leadership at the National War College.”

 Harm smiled, remembering how passionate Skates was about the wonderful F-14 Tomcat and how he himself hated it when the powers that be retired that interceptor in favour of the F/A-18 E/F Super Hornet. Just as he was about to ask another question, a buzzing sound interrupted and Skates grimaced at the message on her phone. “No, no,” she typed furiously on her cellphone. “You better return for dinner and not stay out! I told you before!” Skates cried out her reply.

 “Sorry, my daughter Cathy wanted to go out with her friends. I don’t approve of her social circle but just can’t control my teenager,” she explained.

 “Maybe your husband could reign her in,” Harm blurted out which caused his former RIO to stare in the distance. “I’m sorry, did I touch a wrong button?”

 “No…uh it’s ok Harm. It’s just that…I lost my husband,” Skates replied, staring down at hr coffee mug.

 There was a silence for a minute before Skates told her story. Yes, she married Rob, a publicaffairs official just after they survived the crash of their F-14 in late September 2001. It wasn’t much of a wedding, especially given her father’s disagreement over her ‘war-mongering man.’ A few months later she discovered the truth: he was far from a public affairs officer; he was a DIA officer soon transferred to the CIA. “We fought and nearly separated,” Skates added. They managed to work things out and came their daughter. Then a couple of years later, she failed to hear from him, left messages at all the posts she thought he was at and was on the verge of publicly announcing a divorce on national television. “Then in the first year as Squadron CO, I received an unannounced visit from literally two men in black. They announced the dreaded truth: Rob was blown up by and IED on the border between Afghanistan and Iran. But because we aren’t at war with Iran,” Skates continued, taking another sip of her drink. “I literal was in shock the first few days so much that I was kept out of flying duties by the flight surgeon. What’s more, because of where he was killed and it was an unsanctioned operation, they couldn’t even retrieve the body. I got an ample financial compensation and a stern warning not to tell this to anyone. Oh oops,” she pointed at Harm.

 “You’re story stays secret with me,” Harm returned the smile briefly then commented that her tale was a bit like how it was with Mac and Clayton Webb, their constant CIA contact. “How’s her anyway? I heard scuttlebutt that you married your partner.” Skates clearly was clearly still ‘in the US Navy’, using such slang.

 “Mac and I…are divorced,” Harm answered and now told his disappointing story. It was Sarah Mackenzie who resigned her commission and joined him at his posts in London, UK and Naples, Italy. But as soon as they settle in their new residence, they started quarrelling. “She argued with me over everything, even how we would sleeping and uhm, you know doing what.” Skates got it, but found it peculiar that such grown man like Harm wouldn’t say the word sex.

 “Then we argued much about politics. You know I’ve been a life-long Republican and Mac has always been waxing lyrical about liberal stuff and pretending to be moralistic. We just couldn’t each other, we literally ran to each other’s lawyers and finalised a divorce. Divorce done, she started spreading rumours about me which I squashed with legal threats but affected my life and of further of advancement. She’s off the radar now thankfully, probably back drunk or hooking up with that Brumby. Hey, what’s so funny?”

 To Be Continued


	2. Chapter 2

“Sorry,” Skates replied, shifting her chair. “It’s just that I now remember you as strong conservative and how you would argue with others like Tuna about how a certain President restricted the Balkans campaign and made jokes about his affairs.”

 “And now, I recall you, my trusted RIO, giving me lectures on welfare, gun control, abortion rights…”

 “Come on Mr. Rabb, look what the current President has done to the Republican party. How can you support him or the party now?”

 “He’s increasing our military strength, preventing illegal immigration, making our NATO allies pay their share for NATO defense…”

 “He’s throwing children in cages, he’s insulting our allies and glorifying dictators, he’s insulted women by saying ‘grabbing them by the…’” Elizabeth Hawkes didn’t want to say that crude word.

 “That’s all fake news! Ok, we should stop. You could never turn me to the left and I could never turn you to the right.”

 “Yup, cause I’m the navigator,” they both laughed at that. “Anyway, I hate Mac; let’s forget about her,” Skates added, remembering how that lawyer treated her at her trial.

 “At the risk of getting more disappointing stories,” she continued, “what the status of the other JAG HQ members?”

 “Well,” Harm said. He knew Bud Roberts was now an O-6 and at Region Legal Service Office Mid-Atlantic. “I haven’t talked to him in ages, but one of my former staff at US Naval Forces Europe-Africa says he’s losing his temper often and got into some trouble with his wife, Harriet Sims.” Retired Rear Admiral (upper half) A.J. Chegwidden is now involved with some quasi-NCIS field office in Los Angeles. Sturgis Turner apparently never got his Captain’s eagles and married Varese Chestnut, the jazz vocalist. “I hear they are on the road across the States, but where exactly Harm did not know.

“Do know Legalman First Class Jennifer Coates?” Skates shook her head. “She served on the Seahawk, sometime after we flew CAP for the 2002 Superbowl. Then she moved to JAG HQ after she helped Bud Roberts with his mine injury and became personal assistant to Chegwidden after Legalman Jason Tiner left to read law. Jen was briefly my apartment mate and took care of my foster child…”

 “Wait, you had a foster kid?!” Skates asked, incredulous and Harm briefly explained.

“And I thought I knew all about you,” she added. Harm continued or rather concluded by saying Jen wasn’t chosen for Chief Petty Officer and reserved her rank, working at a charity to help former delinquents like herself. Harm then switch to Meg Austin, who also made Captain like him, also reserved her rank as Commanding Officer of some secret US Navy intelligence detachment. “That’s about the list I know; as you mentioned from the start, I’m a techno-dinosaur and send cards to the wrong address. Isn’t our friend Tuna now flying for a commercial airline?”

 “Trans-United or something,” Skates added and then told Harm the arrogant Lieutenant Dalton ‘Boomer’ Jonas had an eye problem which forced him out of naval aviation to probably a remote US Navy installation. They chatted about other aviators they knew in common, updating each other on the whereabouts of their colleagues. “Tom Boone retired in December 2002,” Harm mentioned. “I continued to keep in touch with him but he moved away from his home in Virginia. My gut says he’s working for one of the intelligence ABCs.”

 “I miss CAG, he would always give me challenging aviators to fly with since I was considered the best RIO, then give me rewards like extra liberty or more food in the galley,” Skates smiled.

 “You were always the best RIO,” Harm praised her.

 “Flattering me? Remember, I’m no longer in the business. Oh damn, look how times flies,” she tapped her watch.

 “No problem, we could meet up another time,” Harm said, clearing their coffee mugs. Outside, they were greeted with a fighter jet, probably a D.C. Air National Guard F-16, streaking across the sky.

 “Harm,” Skates called. “Harm…”

 “Huh, sorry,” Harm twisted his head back down toward Skates.

 “You miss it, don’t you,” she stated.

 Harm didn’t reply and wordless but also tilted her neck, looking at the contrails. Both of them just stood there gazing, oblivious to patrons entering and exiting the café and the protest led by female sexual assault victims nearby.

 “Um, I thought you have to move,” Harm broke their reverie.

 “Actually, I think I have time,” Skates replied. “I actually told my daughter to return home early but that’s before midnight. She’s in her late teens now and isn’t that a rebellious a kid.” Then she dropped the bombshell. “Would you like to come over to my place today for dinner?”

 “Right now?”

 “Well, unless you have something else on. It’s not a far drive away.”

 “Actually, I was thinking of asking you to join me up in my Stearman, Sarah. This weather is fine today and I haven’t flown her for a while.”

 “You named your Stearman Sarah?”

 “Haven’t I told you? After my grandma, not my ex-wife.”

 “Oh, well, where is it?” Harm informed her.

 “That’s nearly two hours apart from my place. I haven’t actually got down to my stew yet. Which is partly vegetarian,” she poked Harm’s ribs.

 “Well, ok, maybe another time in my Stearman then,” he replied.

 “So dinner today?” Skates asked again but he voice was drowned out as another jet, this time a twin-engined F-15C, probably out of  Langley  Air Force Base, zoomed across the sky, leaving more contrails.

 “Well I certainly don’t want to be stuck watching these Air Force pukes showing off, so yes,” Harm smiled.

 “I was going to say the same,” Skates replied, inching closer to her former F-14 aviator. “I don’t want to be on the ground. Let’s fly in your Stearman; I can always cook faster and get dinner done in time. For you.” She tip-toed up and gave him a surprising kiss on his lips.

 “Well, we’re back together again,” Harm replied, hugging her. “I hope you’re driving. My car is in repairs.”

 “I’ll drive. But I’m sure you’ll let me fly,” Skates gave her signature smile.

 

The end.  

 


End file.
